


Sorry

by orphan_account



Series: Home- Highschool AU [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Drugs mention, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Suicide mention, but its nothing big so i didnt tag it as underage.., i hope thats okay.., idk theres a bit of boob grabbin at the end, its basically angst, they broke up and mettaton wants 2 kno why, this was self indulgent bc i want 2 suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5078899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mettaton and Sans broke up about a year ago, but they never really told each other why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay things 2 note: mettaton is trans, hes in the foster care system and currently (for the fic) living with one of the branch's heads in Snowdin, Nevada. also idk if i made it clear, but in this au gaster (their dad) lives outside of town with alphys's mom to work in their lab for the govt. he only comes home on sundays, usually, so sans and papyrus live alone. their next store neighbors are undynes family (her and her 2 mums r fiercely protective of her and her friends) so no one worries about it too much... 
> 
> idk sorry if this is kinda out of character i just needed to write something like this.

                Football game. Sundown. Small town. The hills purple in the late sun. The ironically named town, “Snowdin” written in white chalk on the mountain across from the field. The whole town seemed to be crowded into the bleachers, yelling at the players warming up (albeit this was a town of only several thousand). Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys were chatting on the top row, laughing and beaming happily. Sans smiled softly as the huge lights flickered on, shining on the less-than-green grass.

                He walked along the outskirts of the area, not ready to sit down for a few hours just yet. He shook his scruffy brown hair with a hand and went to see what the local vendors were having.

                “Fries please, ketchup on the side.” He mumbled at the happy man behind the grill.

                “Sure thing, son, give me a moment.” He flipped the burgers and wiped his hands on his apron. “That’ll be two dollars.”

                Sans shoved over the money and accepted the fries, nodded, and left for his friends. He waved at the principal, and went to go sit down when he saw someone take his seat next to Undyne. “Mettaton!” Papyrus greeted him, smiling, “I didn’t expect you to come!”

                “Yeah, none of us did!” Undyne said, scooting over for him.

                “I didn’t either, to be honest.” He gave a high laugh, “Where’s your- oh.” He locked eyes with Sans, now behind him. It was like he had just appeared out of nowhere. The ketchup lazily squirted onto the side of the fries spilled off as Sans squeezed the paper plate too hard. “Did I take your seat?” He said, trying a little too hard to sound polite.

                “No, that’s fine, I’ll just-“

                “Sans, don’t be like that, I’ll go sit elsewhere.” Mettaton stood up and winked at the other kids, “See you guys around.” Then to Sans, “But maybe not you.”

                “Jeez, what was that all about?” Undyne said, Sans plopping down by her, more than a little annoyed.

                “It’s Mettaton, hell if I know.” He mumbled.

                “Hey, it’s starting!” Papyrus pointed, some referees had walked on, a few players following them. Sans plugged a fry into his mouth.

                “Do you guys want to go get pizza afterwards? The pizzeria is open late for the kick off game.” Alphys mentioned.

                “Yeah! I love their shit!” Undyne cheered.

                “I’m up for that.” Sans said, leaning back on the metal grate. He watched Mettaton leave for the third bleacher, but just before he went out of eyesight, the boy turned back and winked at Sans, as if he knew that he had been watching him all along. “Fuck-“ Sans muttered.

                “What?” Papyrus leaned over.

                “Oh, it’s nothing, bro.”

                “Hmm.”

                ///

                Sans usually left during half time for most of the game. People usually went to the café or diner to grab shakes or a coffee or something, but Sans liked to just walk. Friday evenings during football season were some of the only where it seemed the whole town was empty. He could walk in the middle of the flat suburban-desert streets for an hour and a half and not be noticed. It was refreshing to be invisible, for once, in a town where everyone knew everything you did.

                He turned off of J and 2nd, onto K, leaving behind the singular strip of mom and pop shops for the quiet, dead lighted houses. Night was almost totally upon them, only a tiny burst of brilliant red was left hanging in the west. How he wished to be back where that sun was. San Francisco seemed like a far off dream, a hazy memory he wasn’t sure was even real. Their family had only moved here three years ago. But the tiny duplex in the center of town still felt like home, with its sea foam green paint, little paper cuttings greeting visitors in the entrance hallway, a stand up piano with messy books of sheet music cluttering the top of it, and the smell of ripened tomatoes and garlic wafting through the walls.

                A small, classy little car pulled by slowly as Sans threw on his hood and walked faster. The whirring of the old engine roared in the dusty silence, the lights piercing him in the back. “Need a ride prettyboy?”

                “Fuck off, Metta,” Sans groaned.

                “Come on, the pet names? I didn’t think you still cared about me.” Mettaton’s voice hummed, like honey or satin or some other frilly bullshit.

                “I don’t need this right now.” He quickened to a half-jog, “Get the fuck away from me.”

                “Sansy, darling-“

                “I said fuck off, asshole!” He yelled, turning on his heels, “Talk to me again and I’ll smash your head in to your fucking Mercedes!”

                He didn’t say anything, only looked through the window with dulled eyes. With a short puff of a sigh, Mettaton ran a hand over his mouth. There was something wrong. Sans backed away, shaking his head, “If you’re looking for an apology, you’re not gonna find one. You know that.”

                “I wasn’t-you-“ He was uncharacteristically at loss for words. “You idiot! You think I wanted this! God, no wonder why the only person who likes you is your brother. I’m done here.” He was about to slam his heeled foot onto the gas when Sans grabbed the door of the black vehicle. “What the hell is it?” Mettaton looked up from under his fringe.

                “What do you want.” He said, as less of a question and more of a demand.

                Mettaton smiled grimly, “Come with me.”

                ///

                Sans was not expecting to be taken to somewhere as busy as the diner. But there they were, Mettaton ordering an espresso (at 9 pm), and Sans a burger and fries with a coke. Mettaton made a face when he bought a full meal, but Sans was playing along, and that was what he wanted, right?

                They didn’t talk for awhile. Sans ate the burger slowly while starring at Mettaton, who was looking through the window at the darkened streets. He wore an odd, solemn expression, that aged him considerably, making him look less like a smooth talking flirt and more like a frustrated seventeen year old.

                “Look.” He said after a long while, “I know you said you wouldn’t apologize, but the way things ended is not working.” Mettaton had finished his coffee. He rubbed his eyes, smearing only the tiniest of unset foundation off his cheeks. “I want to know why you dumped me. The real reason. I don’t believe that you just couldn’t bear to be around me any longer.”

                Sans suddenly felt far too tired to be doing this. He should have bought three mugs of coffee too. “That’s why.”

                “What?”

                “You didn’t trust me.” Sans shrugged, “It’s not that deep, bro.”

                “Don’t ‘bro’ me, Sans. I know you’re not as stupid as you try to act.” Mettaton bit. “We had something, you told me that I was the best thing that happened to you, and then suddenly I’m the worst thing. What. Happened.”

                Sans gave another shrug. Mettaton glared daggers. “Is it because of what I told you? Did you not want to be seen with a transguy? Is that it? I would be less hurt if you just told me.” He whisper yelled. The diner was clearing out as half-time came to an end.

                “It’s not that. You honestly think I broke up with you because of your _gender_?”

                “Well any guess is a good one, seeing as you won’t tell me anything!” Mettaton tried his hardest not to yell.

                “I was just. Not in a good place. You can’t blame me for that.” Sans leaned back into the pink vinyl cushions, his hair sticking to it.

                Mettaton scoffed, “You think I’ve ever been in a good place? I don’t fucking have parents.”

                Sans grinned. He always did when he was about to lose hold of himself. “I’m going to leave.” He stood up, but Mettaton grabbed him by the wrist, his black nails digging into his skin.

                “You know no one’s going to ever love you if you act like this. Just fucking tell me why you hate me! I’ll leave you alone!” He rose. The diner was totally empty now, except for a young waitress at the bar. She looked at them in pity. Sans caught her eye and she ducked into the backroom. Sans broke out of the hold and walked out, Mettaton following.

                “God! Sans! I fucking loved you! You don’t know how many times I tried to kill myself before I met you! How the hell do you think I got that gun shot in my stomach? I was jumped? Just give me an answer!” He grabbed Sans sleeve, panting. “Please.”

                Sans looked up at Mettaton’s face, and then down at the ground. He didn’t have an answer. There was no good one. He had loved Mettaton too, but not in the same way. He had been Sans’s distraction from all of the pain of being ripped from his home, not the one thing that kept him alive. Of course, shit, Sans had tried to off himself too, but that was different. That wasn’t about being trans, or not being loved, that was different. He was depressed, and hard of hearing, he hallucinated all the time. Sans had had dyslexia and dyscalculia all his life. He only saw his father twice a month now, and he was the primary guardian of his younger brother. What Mettaton was to him was someone he could forget about his own life with, go and smoke out behind the bleachers, fuck in the bathrooms, not someone he gave his life to. And he had always assumed Mettaton was fine with that, that that was what he had wanted to. But he had been wrong.

                “I’m-sorry.” He spoke just above a whisper. Mettaton wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, Mascara bleeding out. “I never thought it was like that.”

                He laughed, “Of course you didn’t.” Sans found Mettaton’s eyes again, they were sunken and dark, like a dead body waiting for salvation.

                He took his hands, the taller boy’s were cold and pallid. “I’m sorry, Mettaton.” He was sincere.

               Mettaton bit his lip and looked out at the field nearby. Distant cheers rang out as people were having fun. But here, the neon lights from the diner were warm against their skin, a harsh contrast from the air they had yelled at each other with. “Can we go somewhere?” Mettaton asked, not looking at Sans.

                He nodded.

                ///

                “When I first met you, I didn’t know what to think.” Mettaton looked out at the town with a tired grin. The chalked hill was quiet and lonely without the two of them. “You and your brother were a lot different from the people here. I had only just moved in, out of Carson City, with a new family. Your brother was nice, just a middle schooler, but you were abrasive- still are.” His voice was smaller than a mouse. It was so surreal to see the unflappable Mettaton broken and stony. “I didn’t think I would like you. But then, Alphys and Undyne were hanging out at, huh, a football game, and you and Papyrus were there. I wish I could go back.”

                “I don’t.” Sans said, rolling a rock between his fingers. White dust rubbed into his fingerprint.

                “Yeah.” Mettaton sighed, “It’s still so odd that no one knew. How did we keep this a secret?”

                “Keep that.” Sans corrected.

                “You’re right. And Sans.” He stopped, “The reason why I went through all this, tonight, is that I’m- well I’m leaving.”

                Sans looked up, “I got adopted.” Mettaton said.

                “What?” Sans blinked in disbelief.

                “Someone in Salt Lake is filling out the papers. I haven’t met them yet, they’re an old lady. I just,” He fumbled with his fingers, “I wanted to tie some loose threads.”

                “I’m-happy. For you.” Sans mumbled.

                Mettaton gave a small smile, “That means a lot to me, Sans.”

                “When are you leaving?”

                He laughed, “Next month, October.” His voice was high and bittersweet. “Do you…” He put his head on his knees, looking away from the boy next to him. “Want to keep in touch? She has a landline, I think.”

                “You want to be friends?” Sans asked.

                He looked so small, crouched together under the stars. People starting leaving the football game so distant from them now. “Yeah.”

                “You know I’m not the last person you’re going to ever meet. You’re hot and people love you. I promise you’ll find someone better than me.” Sans offered as remorse, an at least better apology than the last.

                Mettaton looked at Sans, something heavy hanging in his heart. He reached out and touched Sans’s face delicately, like he was being given a chance to touch God and receive divination. Sans did not recoil from his ginger fingertips, and let Mettaton say goodbye in the only way he found appropriate. He leaned in and kissed him once, than stood up and brushed off his jeans, his shoes long put away in the car. Something about his lack of fear for the scorpions and snakes gave Sans a rush. He stood up and brought the boy’s face down to his. He was a stupid teenager, he was allowed to kiss his ex for the last time.

                “Sans-“ Mettaton began, but cut off as he pulled him back to the ground. The flood lights shut off in the distance, the Milky Way twinkling above them.

                “I’m sorry,” He gasped, his hand under Mettaton’s shirt, feeling his chest, “I did everything wrong and I’m sorry.” Mettaton laughed and kissed him again, a little moan escaping as Sans kissed him down his neck. “Do you forgive me?”

                “Yes.”


	2. Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and mettatons farewell. im super tired rn so !!!! goodnight!!

                “You look nice.” Was all Sans could say. Mettaton stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom. He wore an old blue dress with a white collar, no binder for the first time in a long while. His hair was pulled back and he wore two pearls in his ears.

                “Thank you.” He laughed, “It’s got pockets.” Was all Mettaton could say. He looked over at Sans with an unusual expression, but smiled. “I can’t believe this is happening. I remember dreaming about leaving Snowdin. And now that I am actually going-well. It could be worse.” He touched his own face, transfixed by the makeup he wore. It was not unusual for his eyes to be bearing eyeliner or shadow, but something about the natural colors and rosy lips made him feel uncomfortable in his own skin.

                Sans offered a smile as he turned around again, but it did not really help. “I think that. When I’m older, I’d like to meet you again.” He walked over, barefooted, dress flowing around his knees like some sort of woodland nymph. In an oddly gentle way, he brought Sans’s hands up and laced his fingers in the other boy’s, “If you’d like to.”

                A nod was all he could give. Mettaton sat on the bed next to him, feeling the old sheets underneath him. He felt all too aware of every movement everything made in the room. The fluttering curtains, the dust in the early morning sunshine. The emptiness of the once full room was striking, now barren except for the bones of a dresser, a nightstand, and a bed. “I’m going to miss this place- as many times as I said I’d burn this town down, I’ll miss it.” He shook his head, “You think they’re going to take me to church every Sunday? What would they do with this? God, was I lucky to be thrown into this hell hole, at least you called me a ‘he’.”

                Sans closed his hand around Mettaton’s. “Do you think I’m going to live past nineteen there?” he asked, a voice as calm as an eye of a hurricane.

                “Will I find a boy as good as you? As rude and selfish as you?” His high laughter was intoxicating and inappropriate. They both knew what his fate was. As kind as his new mother would be, he probably would not have nearly as free of a life as he did in this home. Mettaton frowned, looking at his dress again, “I wish I could wear this dress without feeling like shit.” A moving dress, one he wore when he was presented as a kind young lady that played the piano and cross-stitched on weekends, and who did not smoke and did not like to have boys over past nine pm. “Where’s your voice, darling? You’re usually so vocal.”

                Sans shrugged. Mettaton looked at the white door. A knock would come soon, then Sans would have to go out the window and Mettaton would stand up, flatten down his skirt and walk out, ready to face whatever came next. “Are you ready?” Sans said, finally.

                Mettaton laughed, “No.”

                “Me neither.” Sans looked at his sneakered feet, “I hated you so much.”

                “I did too.”

                “I didn’t mean it like that, I-“

                “Shut up Sans,” Mettaton kissed Sans’s forehead, the tiniest bit of sweet lip gloss sticking “Just, don’t ruin this moment for me.”

                “Look,” He pulled Mettaton’s hand into his lap, looking at the well pedicured fingernails. “We are going to meet again, and you are going to be alive for it, and-“

                The knock. Three short raps. Mettaton quickly kissed San’s lips and looked at him woefully. The end was near. Sans pulled him back into another and shook his head, “Don’t let them treat you how you’re not, hear?”

                “Of course, darling.” He whispered, “And don’t let the weight of this world get to you yet.” He covered his eyes with a hand, “Goodbye, Sans. Say bye to the others for me.”

                “Sans?” The lady called from the other side, “It’s time.”

                He nodded once with a powerful solemnity. “Knock ‘em dead, darling.” Sans stood up and hopped out of the window, not looking back until Mettaton had left the room. The pure light was shimmering with something new, maybe hope, maybe anger. Whatever it was, it gave the both of them a bolt of something strong. Something they could only define as determination. Maybe their lives had never been good, maybe their lives would never _be_ good. But it was still worth living, if only for the feeling of accomplishment they could get at the end. Maybe this was just the start of something else, something better.

                Sans walked home less depressed than he thought he would be, the birds were singing, the children were playing. Whatever would happen from here on out, Sans would at least need a nap first.

                ///

                Red hills and dusty valleys rolled over and over outside of the car. Something about the endlessness of the deserts felt suffocating and claustrophobic to the boy now leaving them for the first time. The blue sedan bumped along the highway, soft crackling of radio waves brought a distorted version of the Beatles into the quiet car. Mettaton brought his knees up to his chest as he leaned against the window, watching the world pass by. He felt less depressed than he thought would grab him by the throat. The sky was deep US Western blue and the roads were clear. Somehow, he felt that whatever would happen next, he needed a deep breath and a more comfy pair of clothes.

               


End file.
